Luyện nghe bài hát Color My World Mine

I once met a man who himself not to dream
What he seems to have seen was a of everything
He's been painting pictures on since age thirteen
And he only exists in the mind of a higher being
And I enjoy his mostly scenic landscapes
But each one is focused on an easel where the man paints himself painting
And all that's in his field
He said this was the only way he could make himself
Ever he could remember, he had one nightmare reoccur
But until ten years ago, it didn't matter
It consisted of loud, distorted sounds off the concrete
He ran on top of it in attempt to a ladder
Now sometimes, he'd get so but never touch his destination
Which caused him frustration 'cause he didn't know what it meant
And by the end of the dream, he saw the from a bird's eye
Only to witness his body laying on the cement

It was only to witness his body laying on the cement
At it freaked him out, but after a while he grew content
So he thought, "It's just a dream," and living his life
his soul on the canvas 'cause it sheds his planet light
And it goes on and on like space and time, ain't odd
It's not that he didn't believe, he just approve of God
His was one I couldn't comprehend
'Till I stopped detective and listened to him as a friend
He

He once saw a painting that his whole life story
It was then that he knew he was the art of
He saw a painting that told his whole life story
A brush stroke of the gods made him one in their symphony
He once saw a painting that told his whole life
He spoke for himself and not the of humanity
He once saw a that told his whole life story
And I realize that I'm not
God just me

It's I said
About ten years ago, the that changed his whole reality
Took on his monthly trip to the local art gallery
It was there where he his contemporaries
And there where he nearly carried his sanity to a hole and buried it
It was a very day
The place was empty
And he got chills down his spine being present in the scene
On the wall, was a picture that looked familiar
And when he got close, his heart
cause he saw it was a of his dream
It was a of his dream
His on a runway
By a ladder to an airplane its propellers spinning
Which accounted for the noise
The match up was
And that was the day he stopped believing in
He his creator
I mean, words can't
What must have went on in his brain he stared into a frame
Of a work of art which he and was at the same time
The mind can't handle that much, it's insane
It's like reading a book where each words your thoughts
And in quotations, it reads whatever you say when you
You think it happen
But it did
I guess there's wide cracks in each life's sidewalk
He stumbled an answer when he never had a question
And decided to stop to maintain his mental health
Now he hardly to people
Just in his basement
infinity, by painting himself
Painting
This is a strange
Is it all just a
In the real universe, is my consciousness
Are we really a higher intelligence made up?
A figment of colored by a cosmic paintbrush?
Maybe all of our art creates the of other beings
Then every character in ever novel thinks alive and were just gods
blindly
Just a
I don't know what it
But that's the story of the man who himself not to dream

He once saw a paining that told his whole life
He the paradox of the word "existing"
He once saw a that told his whole life story
He colored his theirs, and concluded he wasn't living
He saw a painting that told his whole life story
The variable that all that is is art
And I close my eyes, I see eternity as a story
A God the God that imagined me
And I am God
And so on